Trap
by desolate butterfly
Summary: [KakaSasu ficlet] Sasuke is confused, but Kakashi can't help him. He can't even help himself.


_This is a one-shot ficlet. Ask for more at your peril._

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Title: Trap  
Author: desolate butterfly  
Genre: Angst, drama  
Pairing: KakaSasu  
Rating: PG – 13  
Summary: Sasuke is confused, and Kakashi can't help him.

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-- 

Kakashi wiped the blood from his hands on a towel from Sasuke's kitchen and looked once more at the body in front of him.

Now that he was dead, the transformation jutsu was fading, and dark hair melted back into tawny brown locks, white skin warped and twisted from the familiar features of Uchiha Sasuke, to someone Kakashi had never met.

The hitai-ate of the Hidden Mist Village was tied loosely around the arm of the body, and Kakashi tugged it off to take to Tsunade later, after ANBU had finished with the scene.

Then he made his way back to the tree where he had left Sasuke, still shrieking and spitting fire as he pushed against the trap wires Kakashi had bound him with.

"It's _my_ house, Kakashi," the boy had hissed, eyes reddened with the Sharingan. "I should be the one to take the impostor down."

"You aren't authorized for even genin level missions, Sasuke," Kakashi had pointed out, knowing the words would sting worse than the bite of the wire into Sasuke's pale arms.

"At least let me go," Sasuke had muttered, shoulders hunched and head bowed.

Kakashi had just looked at the boy, silently, before turning away towards the apartments Sasuke had been issued after his return from Sound.

As Kakashi approached the tree again, the first thing he noticed was that Sasuke had stopped yelling his rage to anyone inside the barrier Kakashi had put up around the area, which consisted of an unconcerned ANBU guard and some squirrels.

The second thing he noticed was the blood.

It dripped down the wires and soaked into Sasuke's nightclothes, turning them a darker shade of black. Sasuke's eyes were half-lidded in pain, chest heaving in shallow breaths as the wires he'd twisted into his skin cut a little more with every gasp. He didn't look up as Kakashi approached. His shoulder muscles flexed, however, sending another fresh wave of blood sliding down his neck.

Obviously, the boy hadn't listened to Kakashi's order to stay still and had kept trying to break the wire.

Sighing, Kakashi brought out a kunai and cut the wires holding Sasuke to the tree. The boy refused to look at Kakashi while the man gently eased the thin metal cords from Sasuke's split skin, and Kakashi refused to speak as his hands reddened with blood for a second time that night.

Then Kakashi was pulling Sasuke's shirt off, reopening wounds that had dried and stuck fast to the heavy fabric, and the boy sat, unresisting while Kakashi searched in his pack for a roll of bandages.

The only time any reaction was shown on the boy's face was when Kakashi lifted and held his arm with one hand and traced a few fingers across one of the deeper wounds. Sasuke flinched, biting his lip, and Kakashi looked at him sternly and gripped the arm tighter.

"Hold still," he snapped, and more quietly, "This one will need stitches, I think."

Sasuke's expression was a mixture of shame and defiance as he watched Kakashi wrap his arm and shoulder, eyes dark and focused on the press of those nimble fingers on his skin, their tips stained red. As Kakashi was taping the last bandage in place over Sasuke's sternum, the boy spoke.

"…I didn't know if you were coming back," he whispered.

Kakashi's thumb glided over the white swathe of bandages on Sasuke's chest once…twice…and then trailed down towards Sasuke's hip. The boy's legs fell open, slowly, and Kakashi watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest for a few seconds as the silence grew thick around them.

Then Kakashi was standing up, tucking the bloodied trap wire into his pack and wiping his hands on his pants.

"You should go get those cuts looked at by Sakura or Tsunade," the jounin said, ignoring Sasuke's look of betrayal. "You wouldn't want them to scar."

As Kakashi walked away, he thought about the way it felt to drive his fist into the chest of someone who wore his student's face, the wet slide of tissue and blood on his knuckles and the smell of flesh burnt by charka. He thought of Sasuke's eyes as he trustingly spread his knees and the way his heart had thumped rapidly against Kakashi's fingers and he didn't turn around.

He would burn every single thing he was wearing, but the wire would stay tacked above his dresser, to remind him of all the things he couldn't have.

--

fin.

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_Commentary is appreciated._  



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